A Standup Philosopher
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Shall We Play A Game? Chapter Four
🕑 Added 2025-07-21 03:27:58 +0000 UTCShall We Play A Game?
Chapter Four
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Akhenadin, former bearer of the Millennium Eye, Maker of the Millennium Items, and (amongst many other things) uncle to the current Pharaoh of Kemet, was seething as he left his niece’s private wing of the palace. His rebellious, disobedient, naive niece, who seemed to be doing her level best to bring everything that he and her father had built crashing down around their ears! Bad enough that she had decided to summon men from every nation with whom their kingdom had ties, and plenty from those that didn’t, instead of simply marrying Horemheb like she ought to have! His pet soldier hadn’t stopped complaining since, and it was beginning to wear on him, but compared to her greatest sin that was nothing! No matter how much he, or anyone else, had pushed, she still refused to send that Hittite bastard home in disgrace! All because he indulged her childish habits!
Oh, she might insist otherwise, but he knew the truth. He had known that the pretty bastard had his hooks into her the moment that he had revealed his final courting gift, a point that was quickly proven by the speed and the eagerness with which she had accepted his suit. And she wondered why it had been so easy to turn the Council against her, to greater or lesser degrees, when she had halfway invited a son of their most dangerous enemy into her bed because of a toy? It was pathetic, and only reinforced his belief that she was utterly unworthy of ruling.
He stormed through the corridors, his footsteps echoing loudly off of the stone, his long robes swirling around him like a particularly dangerous cloud on the horizon, and anyone with the ability to do so -regardless of rank- scrambled to get out of the former Guardian’s way, seeing the wrath and rage in his bearing and, though they were not so directly aware them as a sorcerer, priest, or Item Bearer would be, sensing the Shadows that writhed and billowed around him in response to his turbulent emotions. Rounding a corner, he jerked to a halt as he found himself confronted by the sight of his disloyal daughter, gazing out a large window as she stood waiting for him. Grinding his teeth, he stalked over to stand beside her, planting his fists on the stone of the windowsill as he glowered out into the rising moon.
“Father. I see that your latest attempt to bend our Queen to your will was unsuccessful.” Neferure drawled, sounding entirely professional, but he was more than familiar enough with her particular foibles to sense the disguised amusement in her voice, not to mention her deliberate choice of words.
“If you mean that I was unsuccessful in persuading her to see sense, then you’re correct, as you are perfectly aware.” he bit out, wishing they were in a more private locale so that he could truly vent his spleen without the self-censorship that helped keep his head attached to his neck. He had been lucky enough to survive his niece’s fury when her father had died and when the Kul Elnan brat had told her how the Items had been forged, and even luckier that The Items and The Shadows had verified his sincerity when he said it had been for the defense of the nation and its people and that he had done nothing to deliberately cause his brother’s death. As it was, he had lost his positions and the majority of his power as he was forced into ‘retirement’ as ‘thanks’ for his ‘many long years of service to the throne’, retaining only his place on the Council by dint of his blood and his political power. Pushing his luck by being openly condemnatory or mocking about his nation’s ruler would likely exhaust what patience his niece’s pets had with him, and gods knew his daughter wouldn’t work particularly hard to preserve his life. Not anymore, and not for longer than he cared to think on. “She still refuses to toss that Hittite snake out on his ear, and she is insistent on continuing this farce of a competition between the suitors. If she is to marry one of these wretched foreigners, it ought to be the Assyrian boy.”
“Father, it’s far too late to complain about your manipulations being taken out of your hands. Nothing that has been done, nothing that our Queen has done, are out of the ordinary for someone of her rank. You might have intended for her to marry someone of your choice, but you failed to convince the Council -or, perhaps, lacked the foresight to try and convince them- that she had to marry a Kemeti.” his daughter informed him with a degree of smug coldness, clearly if subtly enjoying his complaints and the failures that had birthed them. “If she ends up marrying Prince Hasamelli, you have only yourself to blame for pushing her as you have. She was quite happy with the arrangements she already had in place, but you roused her ire, and you know as well as I do how she takes such things.”
Akhenadin's scowl deepened, his fingers digging into the stone of the windowsill at both her mockery and the continued reminders that she was decidedly not on his aside in this, or indeed nearly any other, affair. "Do not lecture me on my own failures, daughter. I am well aware of where I miscalculated. But this... this infatuation with the Hittite prince goes beyond mere retaliation. She is blinded by his charms and his ridiculous game."
Neferure turned to face her father, her dark eyes glinting in the moonlight, sharp and clear. "Perhaps. Or perhaps she sees an opportunity that you do not. The Hittites could be a powerful ally, Father. An alliance through marriage could shift the balance of power in the region significantly in our favor, perhaps permanently. Gain us access to resources and allies that none of our other neighbors can dream of matching. What danger could our people face that could stand against the might of both Empires?"
"Do not presume to teach me about the affairs of nations and the balance of power between them, I have been playing this game since before your mother was born!” Akhenadin hissed, his voice low and dangerous."At what cost will we have your ‘alliance’, hmm? What will they demand of us? Our independence? Our very identity as a nation? You know as well as I do that the Hittites cannot be trusted. They will use this marriage as lever to gain control of our resources, to pollute our blood and turn us into little more than a dog that bites at their command, as they did with the Arazawans, as they no doubt will with the Mittani!”
Neferure's eyes narrowed, her calm demeanor slipping for a moment to reveal a flash of steel beneath. "And yet, Father, you would have her marry the Assyrian prince instead? A people who have only recently thrown off the yoke of Mitanni rule, and who hunger for expansion and conquest? At least the Hittites have proven they can maintain alliances and vassal states. The Assyrians..." She shook her head. "They are a storm on the horizon, and I fear what their ambitions may bring."
Akhenadin's lip curled in disdain. "The Assyrians can be controlled, manipulated. They are more distant, with our mutual enemies between us. Better a predictable threat than a viper in our midst. A threat and a viper we can play against one another from the shadows!"
"You underestimate them," Neferure countered, her voice low but firm. "And if you think that the Assyrians and the Hittites will be so easily played off of one another, I think you are mistaken. As you say, with the Mitanni weakened by their war to try -and fail- to maintain rule of Assyria, the Hittites will turn their attentions to them soon enough, or else the Mitanni will start a war with them in an effort to recover prestige and resources lost with Assyria. You believe that it will be so easy to start a war between two nations that can unite over their distaste for the Mitanni?”
“I think that Suppiluliuma will see the opportunity to defeat two weakened enemies in a row, before turning the combined might of a swollen Empire onto our people!” he snapped in response, frustrated beyond belief that she could not see what the empire-builder to the north would plan, how he would take advantage of his opponent’s actions for his own benefit. “But if he were to finish with the Mitanni and find himself confronted upon two fronts, he will hesitate long enough for us to build our strength and let the Assyrians bleed him before we strike!”
“And if one of his sons were to be our King, who would dare attack us then?!” she snapped back, clearly just as frustrated with him, and both glared into the other’s eyes for a long, long moment before looking back out the window with simultaneous, synchronized huffs of anger.
The silence stretched between them, taut as a bowstring. Akhenadin's fingers drummed against the windowsill, his mind racing for a way to draw his daughter back to his side, knowing that she, more than anyone else, would be the greatest tool to use against his niece. The most effective lever to change the course of their nation as he desired. But how to convince her?
"You speak of the benefits," he repeated at last, his voice low and measured, "but what of the cost? Do you truly believe that Suppiluliuma would be content to see his son as a mere consort to our queen? He will push for more, always more. First, a say in our military affairs. Then, our trade routes. Before long, we'll find ourselves little more than a vassal state, our pharaohs dancing to Hattusa's tune. And how long until he begins to demand other things? The methods I used to Forge the Items, perhaps, or the Items themselves, hmm? What will you do then?"
“Our Queen has the same concerns about the Assyrians and their hunger for the strength they need to rebuild their lost glories.” she retorted immediately, which Akhenadin was begrudgingly pleased by. If only the brat would have those same concerns for the Hittites, he might even consider her to have a modicum of sense. “And the Items choose their own wielders, father, you know that better than anyone in this world! Suppiluliuma is an old man, not long for this world. Let him try and make his demands. Before long, he will be gone, one of his sons on his throne. A son far less inclined to create conflict with his own brother than a father may be to pressure his son.”
Akhenadin's jaw clenched, his frustration palpable. "Assuming you are right, assuming that the lure of our wealth and magic is not so tempting to overcome such brotherly love, what of our traditions, our customs? Our very way of life? Do you think the Hittites will simply allow us to continue as we have for millennia? They will seek to change us, to mold us into something more palatable to their tastes. Our gods, our rituals, our very identity as Kemeti - all of it will be at risk."
Neferure turned to face her father fully, her expression stern. "Our culture has withstood invasions and occupations before, Father. We are not so easily erased, and I find your lack of faith in our people and our nature as disturbing as it is regrettable. And perhaps... perhaps some change would not be entirely unwelcome. The world is shifting around us. We cannot remain static if we hope to survive."
"You sound just like her." Akhenadin spat, disgust evident in his voice as he shook his head. "Next you'll be telling me that we should open our borders to all manner of foreign rabble, invite them in to pollute our bloodlines and corrupt our ways."
Neferure's eyes flashed dangerously, narrowing as her lip curled up. "Perhaps if you had not been so intent on doing as you saw fit and upset Ma’at, Father, we would not find ourselves in this predicament. Or have you forgotten why our Queen has no Kemeti suitors of suitable rank to choose from?"
Akhenadin recoiled as if struck, his face paling. For a moment, the anger in his eyes gave way to a flicker of something else - guilt, perhaps, or fear. But it was gone in an instant, replaced by renewed fury.
"You dare throw that in my face?" he hissed, leaning in close and snarling. “The lack of men of standing is no fault of mine, no matter what that Kul Elnan bitch or anyone else has to say! If the gods are so offended with the sacrifices I made to protect our people, then let them strike me down, but until that moment comes I will accept no blame for the flood of daughters to our bloodlines!”
“The sacrifices you made?!” she snarled back, her mask cracking with fury, one hand dropping instinctively to the Rod sheathed at her waist, before she paused and looked around them. Lowering her voice, she continued. “Consider yourself a pure and gods-fearing man if you must, father, but you have proven what darkness lurks within your heart. I will discuss this no further, certainly not in public like this.”
After a moment, she sighed, posture loosening and shoulders dropping in something that seemed very like disappointment. “What happened to you, father? What happened to the man who loved his brother, who sent his wife and daughter into hiding to protect them from the consequences of his actions? When did he become the man who would speak from both sides of his mouth, claiming to want to protect our people, to protect our Items, and then tell his own blood that she will be stripped of her own Item and relegated to nothing but breeding for the rest of her life?”
She didn’t wait for an answer, turning in a swirl of her robes and stalking away, leaving her father glaring after her. As if she had any right to chastise him, as if she was even capable of understanding the choices that he had made, the deeds that he had done! She was a child, they were all children, too empty-headed to understand what really mattered in the world, to grasp how life truly worked. Well, let them play their games and clutch to their delusions of adequacy! He would succeed, one way or another, using whatever means that proved necessary. And the first thing that needed to be accomplished was dealing with that Hittite as quickly as possible. Perhaps he could be baited out through his supposed love for craftsmanship…
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I was already wide awake when the servants came to rouse me for my second day with Ankhesenamun, having spent a good portion of the night and the early morning not only planning out what I hoped would be the perfect date -certainly by the standards of the 14th Century B.C.!-, but also writing down as much as I could of what I remembered about the immediate and imminent future of both the Hittite Empire and Egypt. As much as I had loved both Red River and Yu-Gi-Oh, the human memory could fail at the best of times, and this certainly wasn’t that. And now, unlike back home in Hattusa, I was now in a place where paper was, if not easy to find, at least possible. Granted, it was hard writing with these more archaic tools, especially when I was trying to write as small as possible in order to get the best use out of the space I possessed. Still, bullet points cured much of what ailed me, and in focusing on the more significant events I had cut down the amount of detail I had to preserve already.
As I rolled up the papyrus and tucked it securely away, I couldn't help but feel a twinge of anxiety. The weight of the knowledge I carried was immense, and the potential consequences of altering history were not lost on me. I was well aware, for example, that even the simplest of changes I might make could have enormous implications. For example, what might happen if I introduced the stirrup, making proper ‘modern’ cavalry possible a thousand years early? Well, maybe not proper cavalry, horse breeding hadn’t yet made them powerful enough to carry a fully armored man like the Middle Ages, but that was frankly irrelevant given that full-body plate armor was impossible with current metallurgical techniques and tools. Of course, that was beside the point, because it would still change the very face of warfare and…I heard a soft knock at the door.
"Enter." I called out, straightening my robes and running a hand through my hair as I ruthlessly shoved my worries and suppositions away. Planning for how I might change the world and it’s history was a problem for later-me. Current-me had to get myself into a position where I could actually do something, and that meant successfully wooing the breathtakingly beautiful and frighteningly intelligent Ankhesehnamun. No mean feat, that, even if she had been more receptive to me than I'd dared hope, but I knew winning her heart—and more importantly, her trust—would be no easy feat. Especially with the likes of Akhenadin working against me. Fallen his star might be, but I wasn’t stupid enough to assume that meant he wasn’t a threat and had no influence.
A young servant girl entered, bowing low. "My lord, the Queen awaits you in the gardens. She bids you join her for the morning meal."
I nodded, feeling a flutter of excitement and anticipation in my chest. "Thank you. I'll join her immediately. Are you here to escort me?"
“Yes, my lord.” she confirmed, and I grunted softly to myself in satisfaction.
“Lead on then, miss…?” I trailed off leadingly, and she startled for a moment before introducing herself as Asenath. “Hmm, well met Asenath, and thank you for coming to me so quickly. I appreciate your guidance.”
She blushed and bowed again, gesturing for me to follow her out into the halls. As we made our way through the corridors, I took the opportunity to admire my surroundings. Though I had been residing in the palace for just over a week, it was still a magnificent sight, and one that I doubted I would ever truly get used to. After all, I was living and breathing history that had been ancient when ‘Ancient Egypt’ had existed. The likes of Cleopatra had studied the ruins of the kingdom I now stood in, just as my own generation had studied the ruins of her kingdom. It was…humbling, in a way.
As we approached the gardens, the sweet scent of lotus blossoms and the gentle trickle of water filled the air. I took a deep breath, savoring the moment and steadying my nerves. Asenath led me to a secluded corner of the garden, a portion I had not visited before, where a small pavilion stood surrounded -and hidden- by lush greenery and colorful flowers. Inside, seated on a cushion beside a small fountain, was Aknhesenamun, her fingers trailing lazily in the water. She looked up as we approached, a small smile gracing her lips.
"Prince Hasamelli, a good morning to you." she greeted me, her voice warm and her eyes bright. "I trust you slept well?"
"As well as one can when anticipating such pleasant company, Your Majesty," I replied with a slight bow before taking my seat beside her at her gesture of invitation. "Though I must say, the hospitality of your palace, of your nation, makes it difficult to feel anything but at home."
She laughed softly, shaking her head lightly at me as she dismissed Asenath with a flick of her fingers, and I couldn’t help but admire the way the shadow-dappled sun shone and bounced across her jewelry and gave her beautifully tanned skin a lovely glow. She wasn’t wearing her full regalia, for which I was grateful, or even the half-way outfit she had worn the last time I had been in her presence. Instead, she was wearing only her royal blue kalasiris, her Millennium Item, a simple golden circlet, and some other small decorations. Rings and earrings, mostly, that were still doubtlessly worth more than all the money I had ever managed to collect in my old life.
“What holds your attention so, my Prince?” she asked, and I jolted with a touch of embarrassment heating my cheeks as I realized that I had been silently admiring her for long enough that it caught her attention.
“Ah, I was simply reflecting on how beautiful you were when you’re like this.” I told her honestly, and she arched an eyebrow. Grinning, I shrugged one shoulder slightly. “Not to say you are any less beautiful in full regalia upon your throne, but like this? Wearing only what you must to denote your rank, wearing only the makeup absolutely required? A magnificent sight, my Queen, of natural beauty that no amount of gold and silver and gems could dream of matching.”
Ankhesenamun's eyes widened slightly at my words, a faint blush coloring her cheeks, and though she quickly composed herself, I could still see the pleasure in her expression at the compliments.
"You have quite the silver tongue, Prince Hasamelli," she said, her tone playful but with an undercurrent of caution. "I wonder, do you speak such honeyed words to all the women you encounter?"
I laughed softly, shaking my head. "Only to those who truly inspire such praise, Your Majesty. I assure you, they are few and far between. An endangered species, one might say."
She studied me for a moment, her dark eyes searching mine. "And what of the women of your homeland? Surely they must inspire similar admiration."
"They have their own beauty, to be sure, I will not lie and say otherwise. You have, after all, met Yuri and the three sisters." I replied carefully, aware of the delicate balance I needed to strike, not mentioning the fact that Yuri was not remotely Hittite by nationality. "But there is something unique about you. For one, you care nothing for my position.”
“You realize, of course, that the whole reason you are here is because of your position?” she interjected dryly, and I snorted in laughter, nodding with a chuckle as I conceded the point.
“Fair enough, but that wasn’t what I meant. If you show interest in me, if you ultimately decide to marry me, it will be because you appreciate me as an individual. Not to say that the women back home are nothing but cruel, malicious social climbers, grasping at me in an effort to elevate themselves, but if I might be frank with you,” I responded, getting a wave of permission. “The fact of the matter is that said social climbing is a part of their thoughts regardless of what they think of me on a personal level, even the very best of them. You, however, wouldn’t be marrying me for my rank, and that makes all the difference.”
She regarded me thoughtfully, her fingers idly tracing patterns in the water of the fountain. "You speak as though you've given this matter a great deal of consideration, Prince Hasamelli, and your words carry more than a hint of personal experience. I wonder, have you found yourself often pursued for your position rather than your person?"
I chuckled softly, a touch of wryness in my tone. "More often than I'd care to admit, Your Majesty. It's the nature of court life, I suppose. Everyone seeking to advance their status, to secure alliances, to gain favor. It can make genuine connections... challenging. I don’t blame anyone for it, of course, it’s simply the way of things, but that doesn’t make it any less wearying."
She nodded, a flash of understanding in her eyes. "I can certainly relate to that sentiment. The weight of the crown often overshadows the person beneath it. People see the rank, not the person that holds it. The power, not the cost or the responsibilities."
"Precisely," I agreed, leaning forward slightly. "Which is why I find our interactions so refreshing, Your Majesty. Here, you and I can be as close to ‘normal people’ as it is possible for us to get, and nothing could make me happier than that fact. I told you before, I want to marry you, not the image you present to the world. The woman, not the Queen. The player of games, not the ruler of nations.”
“You flatter me, and I confess that I enjoy the vision you paint with your words, but make no mistake, my Prince: politics and power still make the greater part of my decision, no matter how much we both might wish it otherwise. Do not only appeal to my heart, or I fear you might fall behind in this competition of mine.” she warned, sounding almost regretful at the words, and I deflated slightly, though I didn’t hold it against her. I did take note, however, of the way her expression and body language shifted subtly at the sight of my reaction to her words. Pained, perhaps, or a tinge even of fear. Interesting.
"Of course, Your Majesty. I would expect nothing less from a ruler of your caliber. But perhaps we might set aside talk of politics and alliances for a moment?" I nodded, understanding the weight behind her words and the necessity of speaking them, no matter how little I liked them. Gesturing to the small table at the back of the pavilion, laden with food, I continued. "I believe you invited me here to break our fast together. Shall we?"
Ankhesenamun smiled, some of the tension easing from her shoulders, a tinge of relief in her face at the lack of ill-will I seemed to hold against her for her words. "Indeed, let us eat. I find these early morning meals to be among the most peaceful moments of my day, barring the most unusual and unexpected of circumstances."
We moved to the table, settling onto cushions as servants appeared silently to pour wine and arrange platters of food before us. The spread was impressive - fresh bread, dates, figs, grilled fish from the Nile, an assortment of cheeses and vegetables, and more. As we began to eat, I couldn't help but marvel at the flavors, so different from what I was accustomed to in Hattusa.
"I must say, Your Majesty, the cuisine of Kemet continues to impress me," I said, savoring a bite of bread dipped in olive oil, idly wondering if I could introduce some superior grain-milling technology to improve the quality of bread. A change to history, yes, but certainly less likely to cause a complete upending of human progress the way more martially-inclined technologies would. “This spread is a wide one, and more flavorful than my native dishes. Not to say that we don’t use spices, of course we do, but we certainly don’t use so many in each dish, and when we do, they rarely blend together so well as this.”
Ankhesenamun smiled, clearly pleased by my genuine appreciation. "I'm glad you're enjoying it. Our chefs take great pride in their work, blending spices and flavors from across our lands and beyond. Perhaps you might share some of your favorite Hittite dishes with us during your stay? I'm always eager to experience new tastes."
"I would be delighted to," I replied, my mind already racing with possibilities. "Though I must warn you, our cuisine might seem a bit... hearty in comparison. We have a fondness for heavy stews and roasted meats, especially lamb. More suitable to the colder climates, you see. And of course, our breads - though I must say, yours are far superior."
She laughed softly, her eyes twinkling with amusement. "You needn't flatter our bakers so, my Prince. Though I'm sure they would appreciate the compliment." She paused and looked almost embarrassed before continuing. “You speak of the colder climate. I imagine that one of the things you refer to would be ‘snow’. Could you…tell me about it? I’ve never seen such a thing, and though I know it exists in the high mountains or the lands, like your own, that are further north than Kemet, it’s one thing to know a thing exists and another to understand it. I’ve never even heard it described."
I smiled, pleased by her curiosity and the opportunity to share something new with her, though I couldn’t help but marvel at the idea that snow was some strange, mythical thing to the girl I was eating with. "Snow is... magical, in a way. When it’s cold enough, you see, water freezes, becomes solid. Snow is one of the things it can become, coming down in ‘flakes’. Each one is utterly unique, they say, though they're so small it's hard to tell. When it first begins to fall, it's like the sky is shedding soft, white feather-down. They drift down slowly, swirling in the wind, and when they land, they cover everything in a blanket of pristine white. Like the most perfect clouds, come to rest on the ground."
Ankhesenamun leaned forward, her eyes wide with wonder. "It sounds beautiful. But surely it must be terribly cold? For water to become solid?"
"Oh, it is, cold enough that staying out in it too long without the proper clothes can easily kill you within ten to thirty minutes." I confirmed seriously, getting a suitably shocked gasp from my companion, then I chuckled. "But it’s not all bad, if you’re wise. The first snowfall of the year is always a celebration in Hattusa. Children run out to catch the flakes on their tongues, and many of them are allowed to take their parent’s work-sledges out to the hills around the city. They sit on them, you see, and ride them down the hill. Sledging, it’s called.”
"Sledging?" Ankhesenamun repeated, her brow furrowing slightly as she tried to imagine it. "Really, children do this? It sounds rather dangerous."
I laughed, nodding in agreement. "Oh, it can be! Many a child has ended up with bumps and bruises from an ill-timed turn or an unexpected obstacle. But that's part of the thrill, I suppose. There's something exhilarating about racing down a snow-covered hill, the wind in your face, surrounded by the laughter of friends, and few things are enjoyable to a child as taking a risk."
Her eyes were bright with a mixture of fascination and a hint of longing, trying to imagine such a thing. Even the people in hotter regions in my own era understood the concept, thanks to vacationing, modern technology, or even having seen it on the internet or a movie, and not for the first time I was reminded just how different the world I now lived in was. "It sounds... exciting. Very different from anything we have here in Kemet."
"It is," I agreed, then added with a mischievous grin, "Though I imagine sliding down the great pyramids might provide a similar thrill. Even more dangerous too, I would imagine. Why, I can just imagine it now…”
The scandalized look on her face had me giving off a peal of laughter, the faint and instinctive pout that followed my laughter only encouraging it, and I couldn’t help but feel a thrill of satisfaction and pleasure as she swatted my arm lightly, shaking her head at me.
"You jest, surely." she chastised, her tone caught between amusement and disbelief, though I was gratified to hear far more humor than anything else. "No one would dare slide down the sacred pyramids, to treat them as a toy for amusement."
I grinned, holding up my hands in mock surrender. "Of course, of course. I wouldn't dream of suggesting such sacrilege. Though I must admit, the image is rather amusing, isn't it? Can you imagine the looks on the priests' faces?"
She tried to maintain a stern expression, but I could see the corners of her mouth twitching upward. "You have a dangerous sense of humor, my Prince. Be careful whom you use it around, I would hate to have one of my suitors murdered by a mob of outraged priests because they don’t recognize your jokes for what they are.”
"Your concern for my wellbeing is as touching as it is heartwarming, Your Majesty." I replied with a playful bow of my head. "I shall endeavor to keep my more outrageous jests for your ears alone. Though I must say, the idea of priests forming an angry mob is almost as amusing as pyramid sledding. They’re not known for their tempers or their great energy, at least those in my homeland aren’t. I can’t imagine your own are any different."
Ankhesenamun laughed softly, shaking her head. "You are, in fact, a menace. But I find I rather enjoy it. It's... refreshing, to speak so freely. There are few I can do it with, and fewer still outside of my Guardian Priests."
Her words warmed me, and I felt a surge of affection for this young queen who carried such a heavy burden on her shoulders. "I'm glad you feel that way. I believe laughter and joy are essential, especially for those of us who bear great responsibilities. Without them, the weight of duty would crush us. Besides," I changed to a determinedly lighter tone. “I knew that you would appreciate my sense of humor. You possess the, hmm, flexibility of mind, shall we say, to hear my words in the nature which they were intended.”
She regarded me for a moment, a faint look of satisfaction and pleasure on her face, before glancing at the decimated food before us. “Well now, I think we’ve had enough to eat, so I trust that you will be able to duly impress me with the rest of the day?”
“Ah, but of course! I spent many hours last night concocting my plans and plots. Never fear, by the end of today, you will have seen things beyond your imagination, I assure you!” I confirmed, rising to my feet and offering her my hand, savoring the warmth of her skin as she took it and allowed me to raise her to her feet. The touch lingered for a moment, each of us seeming to enjoy it as long as we could, before propriety and the proverbial ticking clock urged me into action. Clearing my throat, I gestured broadly. “Now, O radiant one, I shall introduce you to the wonders I have planned!”
